


Legacy.

by oftennot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I don't do plot, Other, Reylo Baby, no real plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: Mama explains the unexplainable - about how a lost girl with no family meets a lost boy who has forsaken his, and how they found that something missing in each other.
---
Rey's daughter finally asks about her father, and why he left.





	Legacy.

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Lemonade again.

She’s never met her father, though she’s heard a lot about him. Everyone had something to say about Kylo Ren, some more than others.

 

_Murderer_ , family and loved ones of those killed in Hosnian System sneer, years and years of loss and bitterness built up in their eyes.

 

_Evil_ , insist those that saw the man in a mask order countless innocents to be executed without a hint of remorse.

 

_Kin-slayer_ , whisper the ones who heard, but did not see, about the death of Han Solo.

 

Did not see, because if they had, they would have glimpsed the man behind the mask, the man whose life was the first taken by Kylo Ren.

 

Ben Solo.

 

He, too, was her father.

 

Grandmother tries sate her curiosity about her father by telling stories of a little boy with a head of dark hair, and power beyond anything a child so young should have.

 

Grandmother tells stories of a young Ben who rode on Chewie’s shoulders, who would bring his mother tea late at night while she worked away at her desk, who would cry every time his dad left yet again.

 

She thinks Ben sounds a lot like her.

 

But always, after a few minutes of talking about Ben, Grandmother will suddenly become quiet, and lose focus staring out the window. She follows Grandmother’s gaze, but never knows what it is she’s looking at.

 

She calls Luke "Grandfather" even though the first time she did it made Grandmother very sad, he told her. She knows he isn’t really her Grandfather - Grandpa Han is - but she’s never met him either. 

 

Grandfather Luke tells her stories about a young padawan who had the potential and the drive to be the greatest Jedi there ever was. He paints images of his best student ( _except you, of course,_ he amends) dutifully meditating, studying ancient texts, often finding him having fallen asleep with his head in the pages. 

 

But always, Grandfather Luke will sigh when she asks him to fill in the pieces of how a boy like Ben Solo could turn into a man like Kylo Ren. 

 

Grandfather just shakes his head.

 

As she grows up this cognitive dissonance stays with her. And the more she matures and grows, the more it bothers her, eats at her, disturbs her. How could Ben Solo throw away everything, give up his family, his life, just for the false grandeur of power?

 

How could anyone love a man like that?

 

Inevitably, she’d also heard many stories about the circumstances under which her parents met. Some described it romantically as star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start. Others less forgiving called it obscene, manipulation, treason, and any other number of choice words.

 

She had never seen her parents together, so she could not say who was right.

 

She had never asked Mama about father. While most would think that is the obvious, best choice for information about him, she never had the courage to form the words. Something always chocked her a second before her lips could move.

 

It is fear, she thinks. She is afraid to know the truth. Because she knows with certainty that Mama will only tell her the truth, no matter what.

 

She’s not ready for that.

 

Who was her father really? Kylo Ren, mass murderer, agent of the Dark side? Or Ben Solo, a lost boy so beloved?

 

She fears the answer, because whatever name spills from Mama’s lips will be a baptism unto her. She will be branded, tethered, to whichever man and his legacy. Betrayal, or redemption. She does not want to carry her father’s sins, she realizes, and soon she resents the Solo name. Or is it Skywalker? 

 

And from Mama of course, there is no name, no past, no family or legacy to bind her down. It must be nice, she once thought, until hot shame turned her cheeks red when she recalled the terribly lonely stories from childhood Mama spoke about.

 

This must have been what drove father crazy, she thinks when she’s even older. The ghosts of our fathers, and their fathers, stuck to us like a shadow. 

 

One day she finally decides that she is tired of fear, and she will take absolution instead.

 

“Tell me about dad,” the title slips out mistakenly, sinfully easy the way it sits on her tongue.

 

Mama blinks at her in surprise, her hazel eyes widening. This is the only physical trait the two of them share, what marks her as a true daughter of Rey. The rest, she knows, is her father. A man she has never met but she sees every day in the mirror.

 

She’d often envisioned this scenario playing out in her daydreams, in the little conscious she had left before sleep. Mama would be sad, or angry, or refuse to tell her. Mama would cry, bow her head in shame, and plead words of forgiveness. Or Mama would turn cold like stone, and shut her lips forever to the topic.

 

Reality, it turns out, is different.

 

Mama smiles and hugs her, warm and light. Like she was a child once more.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

And so Mama tells a new story, one that is familiar and yet completely new. Mama speaks of a girl whose first memories are of promises that bind her to a planet full of sand, who spends years and years with no one and nothing, except for a single hope of family.

 

Mama tells her how when this young girl became a young woman, her life changed forever when she met unlikely friends in a droid and a fugitive. And what dear friends they became, and what adventures they went on.

 

Adventures of piloting ships, and planets with the most green you can find in the galaxy, aliens of all shapes and sizes, of people trying to jeopardize this newfound happiness, of a great evil.

 

And that’s father, she thinks, dread settling in her bones. 

 

But the way Mama’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and her lips curl up at the corners, she knows the story has just begun.

 

Mama explains the unexplainable - about how a lost girl with no family meets a lost boy who has forsaken his, and how they found that something missing in each other.

 

About how before puzzle pieces can fit together they clash, and things go wrong. Very wrong. And people were hurt. How could two people, so young, so confused, and aching from loneliness and for each other not hurt along the way?

 

So they clashed and fought, blood spilled and mixed with tears, and their kisses tasted like pure Force, the energy crescendoing around them. For there is no calm without first a storm, and balance in the Force did not come without due chaos.

 

And when Mama talks about the balance in the Force they found, about how they saved the galaxy, she finally understands the pulsing light, the aura that has always surrounded Mama. The quiet power that hummed lullabies to her as an infant when she fell asleep in Mama’s arms. 

 

“But what happened to that peace?” She demands. Because there is no real peace, she is old enough to know that now. The new government still gave way to corruption, and the greedy exploit others for profit. 

 

And the Dark side always accompanies the Light.

 

Mama is silent for a moment, and she begins to think that maybe this tale is over.

 

Then, she speaks.

 

“Hope.”

 

She frowns. “Yes?” She answers. 

 

Mama shakes her head. “No, the feeling. _Hope_. Your dad had hope for the future, for the galaxy, for me, and most importantly, for you.”

 

“I don’t understand,” she grumbles.

 

“Your dad knew that many people would never be satisfied with any amount of repentance he did, and when rumors of Snoke still living popped up from the Outer Rim, he knew what needed to be done.”

 

“And so he just left? You let him go?”

 

Mama raises an eyebrow at her. “Of course not. I argued with him down to the last second. I was set on going with him. But he said he had to go alone. And, well… something amazing happened.” 

 

She bites her lip, already knowing the answer. “What?”

 

Mama’s smile is blinding. “We had you.”

 

Though she already knew, the weight of it still hits her.

 

She speaks up after a moment to digest this information. “Did you love him?”

 

Mama turns to face her directly. Her answer, she finds, is simple, really too simple to account for the tale she just spun, but--

 

“Yes.”

 

It is enough.

 

“Did…” 

 

“Did he love you too?”

 

“Yes, he did.”

 

She frowns harder.

 

“I don’t get it. If he loved you, and you loved him, then why did he leave? Why didn’t he come back? If he cared so much, he wouldn’t have gone, he wouldn’t have cared what people said, he--“

 

She is cut off when Mama leans over to wipe away a tear from her cheek. Her hand moves to caress her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, her breath washing over her face like a soothing balm. She can breathe easier.

 

“Your dad loved you very, very much. When he found out about you, he spoke to you every day - well, to my stomach. He drew out plans for a nursery, and read up on holos about parenting and how to care for a child.”

 

Mama laughs. “He was also a little scared. Terrified, really. But so was I. We just wanted to get it right for you.”

 

Mama moves to cup both hands on her tear-stained cheeks. She is motionless under Mama’s touch, a sinner come to the pulpit to receive judgement. “And that’s why he had to leave, because he knew no one else could make the sacrifice, that no one else would be able to keep you safe. It had to be him, and it needed to be me that stayed with you.

 

“But he didn’t leave without giving you anything,” Mama adds, stroking her cheek.

 

“What?” She hiccups, lips wet with tears.

 

“ _Hope_.” Mama says. “You, Hope. Your name is your legacy. He wanted you to have your own.”

 

She laughs, or maybe sobs, whether in disbelief or relief, she is not sure. After she composes herself, wiping the snot and tears from her face, she asks the final question that always bothered her. 

 

“What did you call him?” she asks. “Ben or Kylo?”

 

Mama closes her eyes. “Mine.”

 


End file.
